


Could've Been Worse Right?

by LounaLouise



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bad Wolf, Doctor Who 50th Anniversary, Eleventh Doctor Era, Episode Fix-It: The Day of the Doctor, Fix-It, Multi, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler - Freeform, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Reunion, Time War (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LounaLouise/pseuds/LounaLouise
Summary: Dealing with one extraterrestrial time-traveling guy is one thing, but now there are three of them.* Essentially a rewrite of The Day of The Doctor, because why not? It's not better, it's not worse, it's my take on it. Also somewhat TenRose reunion for the heck of it. It's not cannon but I have feelings okay? I'm not satisfied with the metacrisis Doctor arc, although it can be considered cute I guess. Anyhow, yolo, as they say. Long live fanfiction *
Kudos: 13





	1. All In Flames

His world is burning.


	2. Is it the End of the World?

Enemies explode.

Children fall everwhere. 

Hearts stop.

By hundreds. Each. Passing. Second.

What is a man to do? What is a man to possibly do to save any of them? They are gone. Dead. Unsolvable. Forever trapped in whatever comes after life. If there is anything at all.

The sky drops continuously, all around the planet, and for the first time in his life, he is at loss for words. The man cries. Times and times again, until, from the depths of his despair comes a memory.

“No,” he whispers through the explosive blasts. “Yes. Yes. There is no other way.”


	3. Songs of the Future

Demons run when a good man goes to war, will say the song. In this time and place however, the good man is the one running.

And he runs, he does, he shouts and faints, he knows what is to come, and the burden of it is crushing. But he stands up again and keeps on running, until, finally, he lays his tired hands on the deadly weapon, and disappears in the darkness.

Conveniently, he was always afraid of the dark. Fear is good. Fear keeps the blood rushing through him and keeps him on his toes. 

One man. One planet. Two of the most ancient civilisations destroying each other mercilessly. Oh all the dead these eyes have seen. All the powerlessness he’s felt. No more. No. More!


	4. Scratch My Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is something to get me to write when I feel dry inspiration-wise. It's the first draft itself, which I will most likely never edit, but if you enjoy it like this, then I'm glad.
> 
> Since my chapters are completely irregular in lengths, I post several at a time so you actually have some content. It's not like the plot is any mystery to you.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you're having a good day. If not, the next will certainly be better :)

The Cube is heavy. Or perhaps he wants it to be. The burden of several billion lives rests on his mere, old shoulders. 

The Doctor is tired. The Doctor can’t keep calling himself that even. He’s killed hundreds, and he won’t stop there. He’s about to commit the biggest genocide the Universe will ever know. 

He finds it reassuring. Hope is gone. There was never any other way. All the dead would have been dead anyway. He couldn’t have saved them.

He places the Cube on the hay. It’s still clean here. Golden and bright.

“How do you work…”

There’s a knock on the door. The not-Doctor drapes the Cube and readies his firearm. 

The knock ceases. The hay is pushed by a breath of wind at his feet, pushing the fabric off the Cube. The not-Doctor can see something. Right on the corner of his eye. Not quite, but definitely there… The more he focuses on the silhouette, the less he sees it.

“Hello.”

It’s not his voice.

It’s a girl’s. A woman’s, perhaps. She sounds of all ages.

“Who are you?”

The voice chuckles and the silhouette moves away from his vision. Appears on the other side of it.

“Who are you?” she asks in return.

The not-Doctor turns towards her but she moves along, always staying at the periphery. He catches a glimpse of blonde hair then she’s gone again.

Something breathes on his neck.

“Oh,” she says. “You haven’t met her yet. She’s not far, she’s not far.”

The not-Doctor turns around but the voice has gone again. This time he can feel her resting on his back.

“Time is still a little bit confusing,” she says. “It’s not that linear. Much.”

“Who are you?” The not-Doctor asks again.

“You’ve figured it out already, why ask?”

“You can’t be.”

The silhouette reappears in his vision. “Didn’t they literally tell you the Cube developed a conscience of its own? Well, when I say conscience–”

“Is it what you are? A weapon’s conscience?”

The chuckle again. “No. Yes. I’m many things. But this. This is huge. This is the day you help me create me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?”

The woman – he decides – steps in front of him. He doesn’t know her. He’s never seen her in his life.

“You’re from my own future,” the old man states. “Why are you here?”

“Because you’re about to do something grand, and I want to witness it.”

The not-Doctor liked it better when he was alone with his thoughts. Hearing someone else validate the horrors he’s about to cause isn’t lifting any of the weight. 

“Then it means I survive this day, and you come back to get my head.” He blinks in disbelief, and looks into her dark green eyes, trying to find any clue about the truth. “Are you a Time Lord?”

The woman’s face tenses in a restrained laugh. “I’m not a Time Lord.” Then in a breath, “I’m a big, bad, wolf. Come on!” she screams. “Do it! Destroy Gallifrey! Escape on your ship and fly to London. You’ll like the shops! I didn’t, but money, is, money, isn’t it?” She grins. “Or…” She looks back at him, kneeling next to the Cube. “You’re not ready. How come you’re not ready… Oh! Ha! Of course.” 

She stands up and bows. “My bad.” The woman sits on the Cube. “You need reassurance, don’t you?”

“I…”

“Sh-sh. Here. I know what you want.”

The room suddenly feels smashed. The not-Doctor reaches for air, but then he breathes again. He’s fallen, nose in the dusty hay, and in front of him, rests a fez.


	5. It's Not Clara's Fault

It starts just before the end of her class, but nothing that happens that evening is Clara’s fault in the slightest. She is fairly certain about that because when her phone does go off she is walking her class through Mary Queen of Scots’ decapitation.

Later on, she’ll learn it is The Doctor’s fault, and she will very much blame him, but it is not going to be her problem before another thirty minutes. Just the time to answer said phone call, pack her things, drive all the way out of town and onto a bigger-on-the-inside police box.

The Doctor’s voice echoes in the large room, from somewhere under the console, nosy but ever as excited.

“You like your entrances don’t you!” he says. The young man pops back upstairs. “Morning Clara.”

“Why didn’t you pick me up? This is the first time you had me drive to you.”

“Convenience. The TARDIS needs recharging, this was the closest outlet and you were about done with your day weren’t yo– Oh, this is late afternoon.” He stares an instant. “No matter!” he decides. “I want to see the Arctic Nebula. It’s beautiful this time of year and then! We can go wherever you like. My treat. For making it through your hard, everlasting day.”

Clara gets off her motorbike when she answers. “What are you not telling me?”

The Doctor avoids her eyes and focuses on his screens, hopping from one to another.

“Doctor!” she insists. “What are you not telling me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re taking me for an idiot.”

“Oh Clara.” He approaches and gently, places his palm on both sides of her face. “You’re not an idiot. That would be insulting. We are going to the Arctic Nebula!” he starts again. “Haven’t seen it in a long time! You’ll see, it’s every shade of blue there is, intertwined. It’s dead, but it’s beautiful.”

“I don’t want to see a dead Nebula.”

“Why not?”

“It’s creepy. And you always tell me about when it was alive, and the cultures that are now extinct, and who you met there. Why don’t we go when it was still like this?”

The Doctor considers it. “It’s a different kind of beautiful. Why don’t we do both? See the Arctic Nebula, and then go and meet its people when they were alive?”

Clara shakes her head. “You’re terrible. Take me back home, come back tomorrow when you’re right in the head again.”

“No! No, no no! Please. Today of all days, I really need to get off this planet.”

“What? You’re feeling too cramped on Earth?”

He gives her an approving look. Clara’s about to concede, but the TARDIS takes off.

“Hey! I’m supposed to agree with you first!”

She looks over to The Doctor who isn’t anywhere near the console. “It’s not me,” he protests. And his telephone rings.

Straightening his bow-tie, The Doctor makes his way to the front door to answer it. When he opens it, a lash of cold wind unsettles him, but he puts his upper body out nonetheless and answers the ring.

Clara hears very little of what comes next. She sees, however, The Doctor lose balance and fall out of the TARDIS.

“Doctor!”

“These bloody humans!” he swears from somewhere under. “Always poking their noses where they don’t belong! You hear me Lethbtidge-Steward? Next time you see my ship anywhere, you knock first! Don’t drag it all the way to London! Clara!” he calls for her eventually. “We’re going to the National Gallery!”


	6. So Much For The Virgin Queen, Eh?

The landing in Trafalgar Square isn’t as terrible as Clara would have expected. It’s crowded though. The TARDIS is being tracked by helicopter after all, and the whole of London seems to have gathered, curious about what two people in a blue police box have done to deserve to be brought this way. Clara sees the photos being taken, and she’s not quite sure how she’s going to explain that one when she gets back.

“Doctor,” a voice calls. “Welcome back!”

“Couldn’t be happier,” he answers it. “What’s gotten into all of you? Can’t leave a TARDIS alone?”

“We actually needed you here, now, and this was more effective. You’re not known for your punctuality.”

“I’m not– Clara!” he calls. “Am I not punctual?”

The schoolteacher steps out of the ship and finds herself facing a tall, blonde woman and a small army of very-much-armed soldiers.

“You’re very, not, punctual,” she decides.

“No matter,” the woman speaks again. She extends her hand to Clara, “I’m Kate Lethbtidge-Steward, head of UNIT. You must be Clara Oswald.”

“She is,” The Doctor interrupts. “What is it that you want?”

“You’ve got mail,” Kate says and hands over an envelope.

“No!” he squawks. “I know this handwriting.”

“You do?” Clara says.

“I bet he does.”

The Doctor seizes the paper. Inspects it, and then backs off again, pulling a face. “It’s from Elizabeth. Ugh. This woman. She doesn’t know when to stop.”

“Elizabeth who?”

“Queen Elizabeth the First,” explains Kate. “His wife.”

Clara turns around and looks at The Doctor who has proceeded in walking back and forth from the TARDIS to a poor soldier who doesn’t seem to understand any more than she does.

“Oh,” The Doctor says. “Of course it’s here. Come on Clara! Let’s see my wedding portrait.” He walks past the crowd and enters the National Gallery.

Clara looks at Kate. 

“This isn’t how I thought my day was going to go.”


	7. Art is Timeless, Quite

Following The Doctor turns out to be easy. He’s waiting for them in the entrance hall, finger raised and spitting words on the tip of his tongue.

“After you,” he says. Which means, Clara translates, he doesn’t know where he has to go.

Kate leads them further inside the building, until they reach an end. Held against the wall, a large painting is covered in sheets.

“This is from Her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth. As credential that the letter is from her.”

“It’s pompous,” grumbles The Doctor. “I know it’s from her. And that painting should have stayed where it was. Where did you get it,” his eyes suddenly gone dark.

“Open the letter Doctor.”

The Doctor shoots Kate an ultimate look before breaking the seal. He reads the few lines and raises his head again.

“What happened?”

Kate nods. “Follow me.”

The Doctor is about to follow suit but Clara retains him. “What’s the painting?”

He sighs, and looks towards the hidden figure. “It’s titled _No More_ ”.

“Otherwise known as _Gallifrey Falls_ ,” adds Kate. She gestures a young girl to take off the drape, and Clara finds herself in front of an alien, red, black and gold city at war. Destroyed. Right in front of her eyes.

“That’s… Gallifrey,” she says finally. “But it can’t… It can’t be here!”

“It’s Arcadia. Gallifrey’s second city. Kate, this painting doesn’t belong here.”

“How does it do that?” Clara asks. “The… Three-dimensions effect.”

She feels The Doctor shift next to her. “It’s not an effect. It’s an infinite painting. Very common on Gallifrey. I, er, had some offered to the Crown awhile back. Look here,” he indicates.

Clara walks to the canvas, and suddenly it’s almost as though she’s in the assailed city. The people’s faces are raw of realism, and the Dalek upon her is about to shoot her dead. The Doctor touches her back. “Time Lord art. Never seen anything like it in the whole Universe. What do you think?”

“It’s terrifying,” Clara lets out.

“Quite. So!” he says. “Kate?”


	8. Something Rings a Bell and The Doctor Dives Right Into It (because of course he does)

The woman leads them through private collections, and The Doctor becomes impossible. He gives orders away, meddles with artefacts hundreds of years old, and somehow – somehow –manages to find a fez and wear it with pride. Clara is about to snap when finally, they enter a room covered in glass.

“It’s not technically glass,” The Doctor says, licking it. “It’s a mix of oil and beam starlight. From, Gallifrey.” He eyes Kate. “That’s a lot of a dead planet for one day. What happened?”

“The paintings have been altered.”

The Doctor examines them. “Ah,” he says. “You mean people have walked out of them, destroying the varnish.”

“How do you mean?” Clara is getting tired of asking the questions. 

“I mean, it’s possible to go inside such a painting, then walk out of it.”

“So what now. There are Gallifreyans in London?”

“No, no, I could tell if there were. We’re a telepathic bunch. This is a different species. Well then! Keep your eyes open will you? Phone me if anything turns up. I’ve got a Nebula to watch.”

“Doctor?”

‘Hm?”

“What’s that?”

The Doctor turns in direction of Clara’s shaky voice.

“Oh,” he says. “That tingles a memory.” In the corner of the room, the air suddenly feels very cold, and very compressed. It twirls, but doesn’t actually suck anything in. “Not now I’m busy!” The Doctor finds adequate to complain.

“You’ve seen it before?” asks Kate.

“I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m well over a thousand and three-hundreds years-old dear madam, please be patient with my memory, there’s quite a lot of data in it. Oh! This is going to be so good!”

“You remembered?” says Clara.

“No! But I feel something exciting. Ah!” he throws the fez into the twisted air. “That should do it. Geronimo!”

And the idiot jumps right into the cyclone.


	9. The Days of The Doctor

The Doctor doesn’t have normal days. His normal is the abnormal. Which is saying pretty much the same thing. Today has to be different though, he believes. Today feels weird, and if he usually likes weird, he suddenly has an urge to go off planet for some time. Maybe bring Clara. 

By the minute his day keeps getting weirder. His brain, for once, works against him. He knows he’s supposed to know what’s going on – he usually does – but this time he simply has no idea. That’s not like him. Even when he’s thrown into the unknown he catches clues, and works his way up from there. 

“Oh,” he understands. It’s a mental block. A self-inflicted mental block. Quite old too. Meant to suppress certain memories. 

Now this, this is about to be a great day.


	10. Alien Snog

The Doctor jumps into what he’s identified as a Time Vortex and crashes into a forest. He bumps his head hard, and has a few seconds of absence before he jumps back on his feet, readying his sonic screwdriver to scan anything out of the ordinary. He’s far from where he started, that’s for sure.

The whirring of his favourite tool echoes somewhere on his right, and upon facing the familiar sound, his eyes spot another man pointing him with said familiar tool. Although a previous version of it. Precisely, the one he had just before the one he holds right now. He recognises the man straight away, and his mind block swiftly shifts. Not entirely.

The other man is wearing a brown-striped suit, and The Doctor’s fez. Bit untypical for a walk in a forest, if he said so himself.

The Doctor bursts into laughter and gets his headwear back. “Oh, this is something!”, he proudly places it on top of his hair. “You really are proper, proper skinny I’ve never seen it from the outside!” He touches his stomach, looking at his counterpart very precisely. “Those sideburns were a look weren’t they?”

The other man isn’t quite as amused. He looks him up and down, and takes a step to the side. He’s studying him The Doctor knows, and so he mimics his walk. Both men scrutinise the other, The Doctor enjoying it far more than he should.

“You’re me,” the other man finally says. “Get out of here, I’m busy!” 

The Doctor spots two twins, staring at them both a few steps away, cheeks red and breath short. “Oh busy? Is that that we’re calling it now? Hello,” he bows to them. “I’m The Doctor.”

“Doctor?” they call.

His previous regeneration makes him take a few steps back. “Don’t start. This really isn’t the time for whichever reason you’re here.”

“Whatever you do during the time-lapse of your regeneration is your business,” The Doctor defends.

“One of them is a Zygon,” the other points out. 

The Doctor’s eyes go from his younger self to the two identical beings and he cringes in disgust. “I’m not judging you.”

His previous face rolls his eyes, but the Time Vortex twinges again, catching both their attention back.

“Doctor?”

“Clara?” Her voice echoes strangely, like she’s calling from a cave of some sort. “I’m okay!” He puts on his glasses, a gesture he likes to think cool, and catching movement turns to his other self, who is himself suddenly wearing a pair.

“Oh, I like it!” they go all smiles. 

The younger Doctor then shifts moods and puts his screwdriver away. “It’s a tear in the fabric of reality.”

“A Time Vortex,” The Doctor adds. “Your Majesties!” He claps his hands. “I would suggest you go back to the castle and let me, and that pretty fellow here, handle the situation – which I presume must be terribly disturbing for you.”

“But what about the creature?!” they both say in unison.

“Elizabeth,” Younger Doctor says. “If one of you is the real one, turn and run in the opposite direction of the wrong one.”

One of the ladies approaches him and kisses him, nearly choking him. “Stay alive my love,” she says. “I’m not done with you yet,” before running off and being replaced by the other.

“Thanks? Probably,” he stutters.

“I understand my love, Godspeed, we shall meet again soon,” and she kisses him blatantly. His younger self’s eyes almost pop out his skull, but the woman has disappeared in the forest already. He catches his breath, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and shoots a look at The Doctor fearfully.

“One of them was a Zygon,” The Doctor says.

“Yeah,” Younger Doctor swallows.

“I hope there isn’t any squishy disgusting mucus in the TARDIS.”

“Yeah I get the point, thank you.”

“Doctor is that you?” Clara calls again.

“Yes, yes, it’s me! Can you hear me?”

“Of course she can hear you,” Younger Doctor says.

“Doctor where are you?”

“Where are we?” he asks Younger Self.

“England, 1562.”

“England, 1562!”

Clara pauses. “Who are you talking to?”

“Myself!” they both answer, and chuckle. The Doctor is really starting to enjoy this day.

“Well can you come back through?”

“Not sure this works in both directions. Oh hold on! Fez incoming!” He scraps the hat from his own head and throws it into the Time Vortex. He waits. “Anything yet?”

“No nothing here.”

“This can’t be good,” Younger Doctor says. “You just lost a perfectly nice hat.”

“Isn’t the first, won’t be the last.”

“The question is…”

They both brighten up, “Where did it go?”


	11. In Which The Doctors Confuse Not Only The Polarity

“Okay, wasn’t expecting that,” the wolf girl says watching the fez at their feet. The not-Doctor picks it up, removing hay while, through the distorted air, voices come out. “I think you’ll find them interesting nonetheless. Look for The Doctor!” 

She pushes The not-Doctor forwards, and before he knows it he lands in front of two young men in the middle of what seems to be a passionate argument.

“We’re both reversing the polarity.”

“So?”

“So we’re confusing the polarity. Back off! You’re the one with an altered memory, old man.”

“Don’t you dare call me an old man. Look at your haircut.”

“Look at your outfit.”

“It’s cool.”

“It’s old school.”

“Oh just close it.”

The sound of The not-Doctor’s heavy landing silences them. Two pairs of eyes stuck to him. The weary man crosses his hands behind his back, in a military gesture.

“Anyone lose a fez?” he asks.

“You…” the skinny one baffles. “How are you here?”

“I’m sure this can be sorted out quite quickly,” the posh one indicates while gesturing the Time Vortex. “I’m more interested in why you’re here.”

“Good afternoon.” The not-Doctor recomposes himself. He’s dealt with many things but being pushed through a space and time hole by an immaterial entity seems to be one of the strangest as of yet. “I’m looking for The Doctor.”

The skinny man’s Adam apple goes up before he answers. “Well. You’ve certainly come to the right place.”

“I don’t like it,” his acolyte says.

“Can you point me in a general direction?” The not-Doctor asks. “Are you his companions?”

The two of them eye each other carefully and fail to answer.

“Well– Er– No. I’m– We’re The Doctor,” the skinny man lets out. “Both of us.”

“He’s the youngest. You– You’re the youngest but he’s also younger than me,” says the other.

“He means he’s the oldest. New face, new clothes, new–” he looks at the big green sonic screwdriver in the other man’s hand. “He’s compensating… Probably. Regeneration’s a lottery.”

“Oh really,” the oldest Doctor says. “That’s what you’re going for.”

“Oh it’s you?” The not-Doctor pulls a face. 

“Yes,” the skinny one says.

“Both of you?”

“Yes,” they both say.

“Even that one?”

The Doctor has no time to feel offended. The clanging of metal armours suddenly resonates all around them and the voice of an angry man shouts, “Which one of you is The Doctor?” 

“It’s getting old,” says the eldest version of them. “I think he means you.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” the other snaps. “The Zygon would have been dealt with already had you not fallen in your own timeline. Both of you! Surely you remember…”

“I don’t, actually.”

Skinny-boy’s voice goes in the highs, “How can you forget this?”

“The Queen has been bewitched! We will have your heads!”

“Ah!” the eldest Doctor goes. “But it’s not us.”

The soldier looks confused. “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

“No, no, we’re ordinary men. The Queen has been bewitched by the Witch of the Well! She’s tried to get to us too!”

“What are you doing,” the second one says. 

“We can prove it. Listen to her talk! Clara,” he whispers then towards the Time Vortex. “Your queue.”

“My queue?” the girl’s distorted voice echoes.

“He means you’re the witch”, comes another.

“Right, ah. Beware! Earthly earthlings. For I am a woman teaching rooms and rooms of children!”

“She is a witch,” the soldiers whisper and tremble.

“My love!”

The armed men straighten themselves in a terrifying clinging pots sound and all yell at once, “Your Majesty!” as Queen Elizabeth the First – or her alien lookalike for all he knows – reappears in the great scheme of things. 

“We’re going to headquarters,” The Doctor hears Kate say through the Vortex. His brain starts working again right then. He lets his tenth face – well, eleventh – wonder whether his lover is human or extra-terrestrial and decides to turn on his showman persona.

“You good people are right,” he exclaims, “we are in league with the witches. We must be imprisoned right away!” He makes the hat turn on the tip of his finger, arising murmurs in the troops.

“Witchcraft that man does–“

“D’dn’t know men could b’ witches–“

And a voice to shout, “The Queen has broken his curse, long live the Queen!”

“That’s my Bess,” the skinny-Doctor grins. “Brave and cunning. She actually got the better of the Zygon. I’m so–”

Suddenly, a scream rises and the monarch collapses, revealing her doppelganger. This one has some messy hair, and is wincingly massaging her fist.

“Next time I’ll use a branch,” she says. “Goodness me.” She faces the three versions of The Doctor. “Throw them in the tower!”

And The not-Doctor finds himself in prison. Thrice.


	12. In Which Clara Oswald Likes Being Alive thankyouverymuch

Clara expects Kate’s office to be in a random building, discreet, easily forgettable. 

Instead, the car drops them at the entrance of the UNESCO-World-Heritage-Site-home-of-the-Crown-Jewels-of-England-and-one-of-the-country's-most-popular-tourist-attractions Tower of London. She’s visited it before, when she was a child. Doesn’t recall much about that day, but she certainly would have noticed the curious dynamic of the very busy and important-looking people swarming in and out of the building like a murder has been committed.

“This way,” Kate indicates.

Clara follows her through the maze that are the edifice’s corridors, ignoring the staff, until they reach a door, guarded by a suddenly very alert man. 

“Ma’am.”

Kate shows her identifications and the man lets them in. Clara notices the strange wall decorations, fixed, facing the guard’s desk, and covering the most of the following room.

“They’re used to wipe memories,” Kate explains. “Entering this place is hard enough as it is, but should someone succeed, we’d just have to say the word and they wouldn’t even remember it.”

“That’s always nice.”

Both of them make their way through the dozens of shelves stacked with overfilled boxes, up to another section of the place. Kept away from what Clara understands to be alien technology UNIT has collected over the years, lies an odd-looking bracelet. It’s mostly leather, she thinks, and quite worn-out. Also, probably precious. Or dangerous. Or both. Both works too.

“What is it?”

“It’s a vortex manipulator. It allows the wearer to travel in time. Belonged to a Time Agent back in the days. Now it’s here.”  
They’ve entered the room by now, and Clara can’t help but approach the object and study it thoroughly. 

“Does it still work?” she asks.

“It should, yes. We just need the password for it.”

“What’s the password?”

Kate lifts her phone. “My team is waiting for The Doctor to tell us.”

Clara looks back to the bracelet. “It looks ancient. How does it work?”

Kat shrugs. “You wear it, and type in the year you want to go to. It’s really that easy. Way more practical than a type 40 Mark II TARDIS. Oh, we’ve got it!” she says as her phone rings. “This is the beginning of a new era for the Zygons. Come!”

Clara has already seen them. Just outside the windowed section of the room, where she was feeling perfectly safe and comfortable in until a tenth of a second ago, two enormous, bright red and weirdly almond-shaped bipeds are walking towards her. Kate herself has dropped her appearances, and has switched to a similar look, revealing the true nature of the alien replacement. Clara asserts the situation quickly. She’s not armed, and even if she’s pretty clever, she has no knowledge of this particular space specie and would rather find out later than be dead now. She catches Kate’s phone, enters the received password on the bracelet’s mini-pad, the year she thinks she remembers is the correct one, and disappears before the invaders’ very eyes.

Let it not be said that Clara Oswald has a bad memory. She materialises exactly where she was a second ago. Precisely, four hundred and fifty-one years in the past as the bracelet indicates. Spot on. Also, she’s facing quite a startled rich-looking ginger woman.

“And who might you be?” the woman asks. Clara isn’t too sure about her.

“Er- Clara Oswald,” she says nonetheless.

The woman gapes but soon enough masters her surprise to limited, curious, glowing eyes. “You’re the pretend witch.”

“I’m looking for The Doctor.”

“Who isn’t these days? My Doctor sure is full of surprises. I’m waiting for him to break out of his cell. I’m always so curious about the extent of his ingenuity.”

“Right. Where is he?”

The woman gestures a door just a couple of metres away, and Clara rushes into the room.

“Come on you…!” she calls and stops. “Oh, not time. Doctor, we’re going. There’s an alien invasion in 2013.”

The Doctor doesn’t move. He and his two cellmates are staring at her, sonic screwdrivers on, and seemingly in the middle of a rather interesting conversation. Clara doesn’t even want to begin trying to understand why so many people thought of getting themselves such a device, in 1562.

“Clara how did you… How did you get here?” asks The Doctor.

She raises her wrist. “Time bracelet.”

“No, no, not here 16th century. Here, the cell. How did you open the door?”

Clara looks back to the door and raises a brow. “It wasn’t locked,” she says.

The three men eye each other.

“It wasn’t locked,” one of them repeats.

“Hold on,” goes Clara again, understanding who stands in front of her. “Three of you here, and no one thought to check the locks?”

“It should have been locked…” her Doctor complains.

“Nice suit,” Clara points.

“Thanks.”

“Why wasn’t it locked?” her Doctor insists.

“I wanted to test you,” the woman’s voice for earlier suddenly says behind Clara. “You are a fascinating thing to witness. I wouldn’t miss it for the world my love.”

One of the men, the one looking like he’s about to pass out from lack of food, points a finger at her. “I know you’re not Elizabteh,” he says. “My Elizabeth doesn’t run tests on me, my Elizabeth stands more graciously than you ever could, my Elizabeth is full of spirit.”

“Right,” responds the woman. “I just thought you would like to see what’s going to become of this world,” and she goes, her shoes tapping loudly in the corridor, inviting them to follow. 

“That was Elizabeth the First,” Clara beams. 

“That was technically a Zygon,” the suit-wearing Doctor corrects. “They’re shapeshifters.”

“Probably the ones invading Earth right now in the future.”

“Fancy following her?”

“I don’t see why not.”


	13. Bad Wolf’s conscience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come back to France two weeks ago, and I've been so busy it feels like three days gone in a second. Time is confusing.
> 
> Things are getting interesting here. We're voting in our local elections in a little more than a week! Can't wait to see how that goes
> 
> Anyway, only one chapter for now, and mostly following the original script, but that's because I'm exhausted, had no energy to write and thought I should do it nonetheless. Do whatever works, right? Take care xx

“They look like an interesting bunch,” says Bad Wolf girl in The not-Doctor’s ear. 

The six of them have entered the dock and watch, helpless, a dozen Zygons work their way through Earth’s invasion. Earth does sound nice as a settling planet to be fair. It’s full of evolved life and holds nice potential for further evolving. 

Bad Wolf girl isn’t sure she’d choose the sixteenth century though. She’s grown attached to the beginning of the twenty-first ever since she was created through Rose Tyler – a young woman from that era – but she’d certainly not choose any time near The Doctor. These Zygons’ problem was they had three of them on their hands. Mostly, they didn’t seem to acknowledge it. Bad Wolf girl doesn’t give them more than an hour or two. No. She doesn’t give them more than thirty minutes. 

The not-Doctor waves her off but she’s not leaving. Bad Wolf girl is aware she’s witnessing history unfold before her eyes. Being aware of it, she realises, is simply not enough anymore. Rose Tyler’s mind clashes with her own often enough for their personalities to have faded into each other. Bad Wolf girl has become something more than she was. Them being here is even Rose Tyler’s doing. Probably. The girl does like being part of the events, even more so when The Doctor is involved. And Jackpot.

“The Zygons lost their own world, it burnt in the first day of the Time War,” echoes the Queen’s voice, solid and incisive. “Yours is way too primitive as of now, however.” She points to the lesser level, where three of them work around a small cubic item.

The not-Doctor takes no time to recognise it.

“It’s a stasis cube,” he says.

As if to prove him right, one of them touches it and looks to be absorbed by it. The next instant, an image appears on the painting fixed on the wall. It’s one Clara and the Doctor have come across in the National Gallery a few hours ago.

“That’s the Zygon in the picture now!” Clara understands.

The not-Doctor corrects again, “It’s not a picture it’s a stasis cube.”  
“Time Lord art,” adds her Doctor.

“Frozen instants in time, bigger on the inside, but could be deployed as–”

“Suspended animation…” the suit-Doctor widens his eyes. “Oh, that’s very good!” He takes a few steps closer, fascinated. “The Zygons pop in the picture, wait a couple more centuries and when the planet becomes worth invading then out they come…”

“They’re the ones in the basement of the National Gallery,” says Clara’s Doctor, “waiting for their time. Kind of like cup-a-soups. Except you add time, if you can picture that.” He frowns and rubs his hands. “Nobody can picture that. Forget I said cup-a-soups.”

“And in 2013 the world is worth conquering, so the Zygons are invading the future from the past!”

“I can’t see what’s so special about 2013,” thinks the not-Doctor out loud.

“Barack Obama’s second presidential term, and the United Kingdom assumes presidency of G8 group,” goes Clara.

“Snowden’s leaks reveal, people die. Not necessarily in this order”, says Bad Wolf girl to herself.

“Prince George is born,” follows Clara’s Doctor, happily. “Also a guy named Mark Cahill becomes the first British person to receive a hand transplant.”

“Miley Cyrus is awarded Best Artist of the Year,” drops suit-Doctor.

“She what?”

“Not there yet?”

“No!” protests Clara.

“None of these justify 2013,” insists the not-Doctor.

“And do you know why I know that you’re a fake?” turns the suit-Doctor towards the Queen. Bad Wolf girl watches Clara pale by the second. “Because you’re such a bad copy! It’s not just the smell! Or the unconvincing hair, or the atrocious teeth, or the eyes just a bit too close together, or the,” he coughs, “breath that could stun a horse. It’s because my Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth would never be stupid enough to reveal her own plan. Honestly, why would you do that?”

The speech is followed by utter silence. Clara’s Doctor is nodding discreetly at his younger self’s speech, but the not-Doctor seems distraught. “Rude,” he finally mouths.

The Queen, much to Clara’s horror, locks her eyes in the Doctor’s and answers ever as trenchant, “Because it’s not my plan. And I am the real Elizabeth.”

“Okay. So, yes. Just needed it to be clarified to the others. I like a bit of panache, me.”

“My evil twin is dead in the forest,” the Queen’s pulls a dagger from under her robes. 

Bad Wolf girl isn’t sure it’s appropriate in this time period, but appreciates the presence of a weapon. There are two humans in the middle of at least a dozen aliens here. Including Time Lords, yes. Don’t trust Time Lords, she’s learnt. They’ll leave you on an alternate universe Norwegian beach with your pregnant mother, your ex-boyfriend and your fake-dad from that other universe. 

“I like to take precautions,” the Queen says. “These Zygons of yours never even considered I survived instead of their commander. The arrogance that typifies their kind.”

“Aliens?”

“Oi!” goes the Doctor.

“Men.”

The three Doctors decide it best to keep quiet.

“You actually killed one of them?” says Clara is disbelief.

“Yes. My kingdom is in peril Doctor, can I count on your assistance?” she turns to the suit-Doctor, who is very carefully avoiding her gaze.

“I’m going to need my TARDIS.”

“It’s been taken care of.”

“Ah.”

“But first, my love,” she cups his face in her hands, “there’s a promise you have to keep.”


	14. The Doctor is Married

Watching The Doctor get married makes Bad Wolf girl feel things. Her lungs are sore, her head hurts, and her fists are tense. Rose Tyler isn’t liking it at all. She can hear her on the side of her mind, raging and screaming. 

Their two consciences give them the information she is looking for: it has been years since The Doctor and Rose last met. He is moving on, without knowing she’s finally found a way to come back to him. She is right there, by his side, while Elizabeth the First seals their union with yet another kiss. But he can’t see her. She is doomed to be acknowledged only by a previous him that hasn’t met her yet.

On the side, Clara Oswald’s smile fades when she finds the kiss lasting maybe a bit too long, and the two other Doctors observe the scene with a mix of curiosity and fear.

“Is there a lot of this in the future?” asks The not-Doctor as discreetly as possible.

“It does start to happen, yes…” responds the other suddenly lost in thoughts.

“I’ll be right back,” promises The suit-Doctor. He walks to his TARDIS, parked a couple of metres away.

The console room is exactly like Bad Wolf girl remembers it to be. Metallic and lacking light, but spacious and full of life as soon as The Doctor enters it. The TARDIS welcomes them with a series of beeps and clings and Bad Wolf girl feels right at home. She approaches the console, letting her fingers play with it. This is where she was born, from the heart of the time machine.

The skinny-Doctor – her Doctor – lets out a cry of pain the moment his hands touch the manœuvres. The TARDIS beams and fades rapidly all around them.

“Three of us from different time zones, it’s trying to compensate!” yells The not-Doctor through the noise.

The walls lighten up, and appears a different look that neither of these three Doctors have seen yet. Bad Wolf girl reaches for the TARDIS and with her help, they stabilise the cabin into the Eleventh Doctor’s.

“Oh, you’ve redecorated!” lets out skinny-Doctor with a frown. “I don’t like it.”

Clara’s Doctor doesn’t even try not to look offended. “Oh! Oh yeah? Oh you never do. Anyway, we’re going to the National Gallery. The Zygons are underneath it.”

“No,” corrects Clara. “We’re going to UNIT HQ. They’ve infiltrated them already, in the Black Archive.”

The three Doctors suddenly go very still, and their three pairs of eyes stick on Clara.

“So you’ve heard of that, then,” she says.

Bad Wolf likes Clara more and more as time passes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just noticed some of you have subscribed to this little piece of work, THANK YOU! I'm happy you're enjoying it :) All of you, take care! There's more to come ;)


	15. Timey Wimey plan

“I can’t land!” grunts Clara’s Doctor. “Guess I’ll have to turn the space-time telegraph on.”

Skinny-Doctor is roaming about the cabin, and presses a button. Immediately, the voice of Kate resonates in the room. At first, it sounds like she’s arguing with herself, then Clara understands she’s not. She’s facing a Zygon that has taken her appearance.

“Twenty feet beneath us is a nuclear warhead. Are you sitting comfortably?” Kate’s voice says, threatening.

“You wouldn’t destroy London. You’re bluffing.”

“To save the world, yes. Yes I would. Look for a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart in your memories. I am his daughter.”

“Don’t do it Kate!” yells Clara’s Doctor. He’s gone pale and his lips are shaky. “I know about the Black Archive and about the security protocol. Please, please tell me you’re not about to do something so unbelievably stupid.”

A moment passes but Kate finally says, dooming, “I’m sorry Doctor. Switch the telegraph off.”

The skinny-Doctor’s voice is calm but not exactly controlled when he takes over the conversation. “Not as sorry as you will be. This is not a decision you will ever be able to live with.”

Both men exchange a pained look before turning away from each other. The not-Doctor stays silent, while Bad Wolf girl inspects his reaction. He’s composed, and analyses the situation, she knows, but he doesn’t let anything transparent on his face. 

“Kate we’re trying to bring the TARDIS in, why can’t we land?” the eldest Doctor asks.

“I said switch it off!”

“No! Kate, please, just listen to me!”

“The Tower of London,” the skinny-Doctor recalls suddenly, as his own mind-block continues to dissolve. “Totally TARDIS-proof.”

“How can they do that?” asks Clara. 

“Alien technology plus human stupidity. Trust me, it’s unbeatable,” says her Doctor.

Bad Wolf watches The not-Doctor inspect the stasis cube he’s brought aboard.

“We don’t need to land,” he says suddenly. He’s met with three stares, and Bad Wolf’s amused gaze.

“Yes, we do,” cuts the suit-Doctor. “A tiny bit. Try and keep up.”

“No, we don’t. We don’t. There is another way.” He turns to the current owner of the place, who’s gone all smiles. “Cup-a-soup. What is a cup-a-soup?”

The Doctor, for some reason, seems to have understood. He closes the link to Kate and opens up the TARDIS’s doors to pull out a phone from somewhere Bad Wolf girl doesn’t see. The rings don’t last long before someone picks up.

“Take a look at your phone and confirm who you’re talking to,” he says. “You were just talking to me, yes, I’m a time traveller, figure it out. I need you to send the Gallifrey Falls painting to the Black Archive. Yes? Good.”

In the National Gallery, Kate’s number two hangs up and watches his superior, The Doctor, and Clara Oswald make their way away from the painting and downstairs, to inspect the broken pictures.


	16. The Eyes of The Doctor

Kate’s day was bad to begin with. Most of her days go wrong, to be fair, but today is one of a kind. Risking the end of the world kind, exactly.

She’d actually do it, she realises. To save billions, she’d kill millions. The math works. It’s worth it. More lives saved than ended.

The Doctor pleading she’s wrong through the telegraph he’s offered her father doesn’t change her mind in the slightest. The Zygons are dangerous. They’re in front of her and don’t plan on escaping. Perhaps because they can’t. She’s got them, and she’s saving her species. End of the story.

The countdown is still functioning. She’s got McGillop – her second hand man – and Osgood – scientist and personal assistant – on her sides, ready as ever to support her. Nothing can go wrong.

Except, the room suddenly seems to explode. A broken Dalek crashes in front of them, dead and fuming, and from the large Gallifrey Falls painting – that Kate doesn’t remember was ever stocked in this room – emerge three men. The Doctors.

They make their way to the table, the numbers on the clock still rapidly going down. One minute forty seconds. Clara Oswald comes out from the picture too, less assured than her companions, murmuring in her breath. If eyes could kill, the three men would be dead.

“Hello,” says the oldest-looking one.

“I’m the Doctor,” says the one wearing a brown pinstriped suit.

“Sorry about the Dalek,” continues the third one.

“And the showing off,” Clara and Bad Wolf say.

“The countdown can only be stopped at my personal command,” Kate is on the defensive. The Doctors eye her, and the doppelgangers on the other side of the table. “There’s nothing you can do.”

The Doctor and the suit-Doctor start moving in accord with each other. They grab a chair, sit on it, put their legs on the table and cross their arms.

“I’ll make you change your mind. You’re both going to agree to halt it.”

“Not even three of you would make me want to do that.”

“You’re about to murder millions of people,” says The not-Doctor.

“To save billions!” she argues. She’s angry now. “How many times have you made that calculation?”

“Once,” says The Doctor. “Never again. Turned me into the man I am now. I’m not even sure who that is anymore.”

The suit-Doctor takes over. “You tell yourself it’s justified,” his eyes break her. These eyes are haunted and chaotic, and have seen the horrors she wants to commit. He’s been in her place, she remembers now. He knows exactly what’s next. Maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t want it to happen again. Maybe… “but it’s a lie. Because what I did that day was wrong. Just… wrong.” He breathes in.

The Doctor follows up. “And because I got it wrong, I’m going to make you get it right.”

Bad Wolf feels the weight of The not-Doctor’s stare on her. There’s nothing she can say or do now. His future selves are showing him the way. 

“How?” Kate squeaks. 

“Any second now, you’re going to stop the countdown,” says The suit-Doctor pointing at Kate and her Zygon. “Both of you, together.”

“Then you’re going to negotiate the most perfect treaty of all time!” adds Clara’s Doctor.

“Safeguards and perfectly fair on both sides.”

“And my favourite part, the key to perfect negotiation?”

They jump on the table.

“You’re not going to remember which side you’re on!”

The three Doctors point their sonic screwdrivers to the memory filters in the ceiling. On the corner of her eye, Kate sees the countdown reach seven seconds. Then the room is enlightened by a bright white light. Kate wakes up as if she has fainted. Panic flows through her as, like The Doctors say, she can’t make out who she is beside her name and basic information.

“Cancel the detonation!” both her voices scream. The clock stops at five seconds.


End file.
